Two Faced Lover - Chapter 92

92: Qingming Festival

The online slander and defamation against Bo Mingyan gradually subsided after she and MOMENT announced their decision to pursue legal action by preparing lawyer’s letters. Several of the most vocal and abusive netizens, upon learning they faced lawsuits and administrative penalties, hastily posted multiple apologies overnight, hoping to downplay the severity of the situation.

For some internet trolls, the only joy in their dull lives seems to be standing on moral high ground, eagerly dissecting every possible flaw of others when misfortune strikes.

But karma comes around. Those who once wielded verbal violence found themselves on the receiving end. Netizens who had followed the drama flocked to the offenders’ Weibo pages, bombarding them with such vitriol that they were forced to disable comments.

The same people who had once been so self-righteous, pounding their keyboards with conviction, spewing cruel and degrading language with glee, now cowered in fear—utterly spineless, like venomous snakes pinched at their weak spots, forced to swallow their fangs, powerless to strike back.

In the comments section of Bo Mingyan’s newly created Weibo account, which she had registered specifically to clarify the situation, the once-toxic remarks were now buried under layers of apologies and praise.

Yet behind the sunlight, shadows linger. Beneath the surface of peace, a hint of irony loomed.

After that, Bo Mingyan never logged into that Weibo account again. Fans of her and Meng Xuran’s relationship eventually found their way to Gu Miao’s short-video account.

The day after the scandal broke, unable to resist fans’ concerns about Bo Mingyan’s well-being, Gu Miao secretly filmed her with her phone. That day, Bo Mingyan was wearing Meng Xuran’s jacket. As she stood up to dress a model, she rolled up her sleeves, gathered her hair, and held a hair tie between her lips—a “best friend” style from FANTASY. The whole look was effortlessly cool and commanding. Gu Miao held her phone high and whispered to fans, “Don’t worry, everyone! Designer Miya is doing just fine, nourished by Little Meng’s love. But next time, don’t let rumors lead you astray, okay? Hurtful words cut deeper than winter’s chill. Some wounds are invisible, but they hurt all the same.”

Behind her, Meng Xuran’s figure briefly entered the frame. She wore a loose, washed-blue denim jacket and, upon hearing Gu Miao’s words, turned slightly to glance at the camera. The tank top peeking out from her jacket was a matching set with Bo Mingyan’s.

Meng Xuran lifted a hand to adjust her hair, revealing a watch and hair tie identical to Bo Mingyan’s.

Just before Gu Miao stopped recording, Bo Mingyan looked up at Meng Xuran. Her usually stoic face softened instantly, a faint smile blooming like snow melting under the first touch of spring. Her smoky gray eyes, usually still as a lake, shimmered with tender ripples of affection.

As if sensing her gaze, Meng Xuran immediately met her eyes. Her peach-blossom eyes sparkled with warmth, brimming with starlit tenderness.

Resourceful netizens screenshot the moment, edited Gu Miao out of the frame, blurred the background with a Gaussian effect, and enhanced the overall atmosphere of the image.

The picture spread like wildfire across the internet, eventually landing on Meng Xuran’s phone, where it became her new wallpaper.

While Meng Xuran happily used the wallpaper, the edited-out Gu Miao spent half the day crying in the “Perfect Ten” group chat.

The “Perfect Ten” group had evolved from the earlier “Eight Immortals” chat. As for how it became “Perfect Ten,” the story traces back to Qingming Festival.

Bo Mingyan wanted to visit Longgu Mountain Cemetery early on Qingming Festival morning to pay respects to her father, Bo Weize. After her shower, she had intended to mention it to Meng Xuran, but found her in the middle of a video conference. When Bo Mingyan walked over to hand her a glass of water, she accidentally appeared on camera.

A male voice from the other end of the call mentioned a “Cheng” and asked, “So these two are the main targets, right? Our stance is, don’t rush to dig up the radish—loosen the soil first, and the whole plot will be easier to clear.”

Bo Mingyan’s eyelids twitched. She glanced at the screen and saw three people: a woman on the far left, only half-visible in profile, her face mostly obscured by long hair as she quietly traced her fingers over what seemed to be a Braille book; a well-dressed man in the middle holding a laptop; and a girl on the far right who looked sweet and no older than 16 or 17.

Realizing she was on camera, Bo Mingyan quickly stepped back with her glass of water until she was out of frame.

Meng Xuran turned to her and said, “Go to bed first. I might be a while.”

Bo Mingyan took a sip of water to steady herself. “Mm,” she replied.

The girl in the video clutched her face and squealed, “Xu-Yan CP is real~ Boss Meng is indeed fierce~”

Bo Mingyan nearly choked on her water. She swallowed hastily, coughing several times. Concerned, Meng Xuran said, “Excuse me, one moment,” to the others on the call, muted her microphone, took off her headphones, and walked over to pat Bo Mingyan’s back. Leaning in close, she teased in a whisper, “Even if you wholeheartedly agree that I’m fierce, was it really necessary to choke on your water like that?”

Bo Mingyan shot her a look. “I’m going to bed,” she said flatly.

Meng Xuran tugged her arm, pulling her closer. She leaned in and brushed a soft kiss against Bo Mingyan’s earlobe, her voice low and velvety: “Wait for me~ Master~”

The whisper sent a shiver down Bo Mingyan’s spine, a tingling current spreading through her body. Her fair ears gradually flushed pink, deepening to red under Meng Xuran’s breath. Bo Mingyan turned her head slightly, her gaze dropping from beneath her lashes to linger on Meng Xuran’s lips. She nipped them lightly and said, “No waiting past the hour.”

At a little past 2 a.m., Meng Xuran finally finished her meeting and returned to the bedroom. True to her word, Bo Mingyan was already asleep, curled under the blankets. After washing up, Meng Xuran lingered at the edge of the bed until her body warmed up, then slipped into Bo Mingyan’s arms.

As if sensing the soft presence nestling against her, Bo Mingyan’s lashes fluttered. She nuzzled lightly into Meng Xuran’s neck and murmured drowsily, “Done with your meeting?”

“Mn,” Meng Xuran replied, brushing strands of hair from Bo Mingyan’s face. “Sleep.”

“Mm. You…” Bo Mingyan had meant to ask about the meeting, but her words trailed off as her breathing slowed, teetering on the edge of sleep. Just as she was about to drift off, she suddenly added, “Gotta wake up early.”

Meng Xuran blinked. “I need to wake up early tomorrow?”

Bo Mingyan was too sleepy to string thoughts together. She vaguely heard Meng Xuran’s question but forgot what she’d asked by the time she tried to answer.

After a few seconds, as her mind fully relaxed, she shifted into a more comfortable position and mumbled indistinctly, “Qingming.”

Meng Xuran called her name softly: “Manman, do you need to visit the graves tomorrow for Qingming Festival?”

Bo Mingyan parted her lips to respond but couldn’t muster the energy to move. She felt Meng Xuran press a cool kiss to her forehead, like a raindrop landing on a leaf outside the window. Then, she slipped into unconsciousness.

Rain pattered outside, the sky thick with gloomy clouds. The curtains were drawn tight, blocking out any light. A soft alarm chimed once, startling Bo Mingyan awake. She fumbled for the clock on her nightstand and turned it off. The blankets were gone—Meng Xuran must have kicked them off in her sleep, finding them too warm.

Something heavy and slightly hard pressed against her waist. Bo Mingyan glanced down to find Meng Xuran half-draped over her, an arm wrapped around her waist and a slender leg hooked over her hip. Her fair calf dangled slightly, and her delicate foot twitched a few times, as if reacting to a dream.

Turning her head, Bo Mingyan saw Meng Xuran still deep in sleep, her breathing even and steady. Carefully, she inched toward the edge of the bed, propped herself up, and gently lifted Meng Xuran’s ankle to slide her leg off. Then, she got up and headed to the bathroom outside to wash up.

When she returned to the bedroom to change, Meng Xuran was struggling to emerge from her groggy state. Propping herself up on her elbows, she rubbed her eyes and squinted at Bo Mingyan.

“Grab the white one from the closet for me. The shirt,” Meng Xuran said, her voice thick with sleep, as if she couldn’t be bothered to open her mouth fully or move her tongue much. She paused for a long moment between phrases, as if her brain needed time to process. “And the light-colored high-waisted jeans.”

Bo Mingyan froze. She retrieved the clothes as instructed and brought them to the bed, holding them out to Meng Xuran. “Are you going out?”

“Aren’t we visiting Dad’s grave?” Meng Xuran yawned. She caught Bo Mingyan’s surprised expression and raised an eyebrow. “You were the one who, despite being half-dead with sleep last night, insisted over and over that your father’s future daughter-in-law had to wake up early and go with you. Your words, not mine.”

Bo Mingyan didn’t think that was quite what she’d said, but she couldn’t remember her half-asleep ramblings. Meng Xuran’s matter-of-fact tone left her speechless.

Meng Xuran dressed quickly. After washing up and opting for only light makeup to brighten her complexion (in case of traffic), the two ate a quick breakfast of oatmeal before heading out to Longgu Mountain Cemetery.

By the time they arrived, heavy ink-stained clouds had smudged across most of the sky. The rain had lightened from a downpour to a fine drizzle—thin but dense, forming a mist that reduced visibility. Droplets settled on lush greenery and rows of gravestones, like water bleeding into colored paper, blurring the world’s hues.

They climbed the rain-slicked granite steps one by one. The cemetery was crowded with visitors on Qingming Festival, and the narrow staircase forced them to occasionally step aside for others. Bo Mingyan led the way, her hand instinctively reaching back behind her.

Meng Xuran’s eyes softened. She hooked her pinky around Bo Mingyan’s. “I think my maternal grandparents are buried here too.”

Bo Mingyan caught the uncertainty. “You think?”

“I came here when I was little. They passed away early, so we grandchildren didn’t have much time with them. After that, only my parents, aunt, uncles, and the older generation visited. Oh, right—they came yesterday.” Meng Xuran suddenly remembered. “Good thing we didn’t run into them. It would’ve been so annoying. My aunt’s a preschool teacher—she treats everyone like a kid. If she saw you, she’d probably start with ‘Baobao, be good~’ My uncle’s a bit rough around the edges, looks like a total thug, but he’s actually really kind—super protective. When I was bullied as a kid, I’d ask him to attend parent-teacher meetings. Just him sitting there was enough to scare even the strictest teachers.”

Bo Mingyan couldn’t help but smile at the descriptions. She loved hearing Meng Xuran share stories about her family, especially how she dropped the possessive “my” before “parents” and “uncle,” blurring the lines between yours and mine.

Bo Weize and Lin Huixin had both been only children with no living parents. After their family of three fell apart, Lin Huixin was the only relative Bo Mingyan had left in the world. Once Lin Huixin remarried and started a new family, Bo Mingyan might as well have had none.

She didn’t resent others for their family warmth. In fact, she found it healing.

At Bo Weize’s gravesite, Bo Mingyan placed her bouquet down. Meng Xuran followed suit, bending to set her flowers beside them. When she lifted her gaze, she met the gentle smile of the handsome, refined man in the grayscale photo. His expression was soft yet vivid, as if the drizzle had only faded his colors but not his spirit. Meng Xuran blinked slowly. For a moment, it felt like she’d stepped through the rain and across time, back to an afternoon in elementary school.

Back then, boys had a childish, cruel way of showing affection.

A young bully had pestered Meng Xuran for ages. Frustrated by her indifference, he’d decided to retaliate.

On parent-teacher conference day, Meng Xuran waited for Meng Yao under the school’s wisteria arbor. The bully yanked her hair loose from its bun and hacked at her ponytail with scissors.

Her scalp stung from the tugging. The beast that had been subdued by therapy stirred deep within, its chains rattling as it threatened to break free.

Just as her rage was about to erupt, Bo Weize—lost on his way—appeared and hauled the bully up by his collar. “Who taught you to treat a girl like this? Where are your parents? What class are you in? Let me ask your teacher and family just who raised such a little brat.”

Bo Weize was tall. The bully dangled from his grip like a piglet.

His shadow stretched across the ground like a giant’s.

Meng Xuran looked up, wanting to see Bo Weize’s face, but her gaze snagged on Bo Mingyan, who’d come running over. She immediately ducked her head.

She’d secretly observed Bo Mingyan many times before. Bo Mingyan rarely smiled. Bo Mingyan was aloof. But the smile she gave Bo Weize was breathtaking.

Like spring thawing ice, peach blossoms in full bloom.

And here she was, her hair a tangled mess.

At least it covered her face. Thank goodness it still could.

Meng Xuran stared at her toes. Through blurred vision, she saw the ugly footprint staining the pristine white shoes she’d taken such care to keep clean. A drop of water splashed onto the dirt.

She’d imagined countless scenarios for her reunion with Bo Mingyan. She’d wanted to show the best version of herself to this girl she admired so much.

Not once had she pictured this.

It seemed every time she met Bo Mingyan, she was at her most wretched.

Meng Xuran turned to leave. As she shifted her weight, Bo Mingyan slid her own hair tie free and gathered Meng Xuran’s hair into a low bun, carefully tucking away the uneven strands—and all her shame—into the little knot.

“All done. Once you trim it at home, it’ll look nice again.”

Bo Mingyan’s voice drifted into Meng Xuran’s ears from behind.

During P.E., while cleaning the wisteria arbor, or sketching in art class, Meng Xuran often overheard upperclassmen gossip about how Bo Mingyan acted all high and mighty just because she was pretty and got good grades. She’s so stuck-up, they’d whisper.

Those backbiting losers had no idea Bo Mingyan was the kindest person in the world.

Meng Xuran’s heart raced. Embarrassment and insecurity—emotions too complex for her age to articulate—threatened to swallow her whole. The moment Bo Mingyan finished speaking, she bolted. Behind her, she heard Bo Weize praise, “Our little Manman is so considerate. You did great.”

“I’m not little anymore,” Bo Mingyan corrected, then added, “Little Manman sounds so weird.”

“Alright, alright, you’re all grown up. Manman’s a big girl now.”

Meng Xuran ran and ran, gradually slowing to a stop. She turned back toward the wisteria arbor. The piglet had fled. Wisteria blossoms swayed in the breeze, sunlight filtering through to dance across Bo Weize’s shoulders. From this distance, Meng Xuran couldn’t make out his features clearly, but she knew—to Bo Mingyan, he was as vast and dependable as the ocean, as steadfast as a mountain.

His large hand rested atop Bo Mingyan’s head.

Bo Mingyan tilted her face up, her smile as radiant as the sunlight on Bo Weize’s shoulders—searing itself into Meng Xuran’s eyes.

That day, back home, Meng Xuran twisted like a pretzel in front of the mirror until she finally got a look at her little bun—and the hair tie holding it together. It was the simplest style, strung with a single pearl.

Round round… Manman.

As they prepared to leave, Meng Xuran tripped over a pebble and lurched forward. Bo Mingyan barely managed to grab her arm and yank her back. As she stumbled backward, Meng Xuran glanced at the adjacent gravestone. The black-and-white photo featured another foreigner, his features sharper than her life plans, as if meticulously carved by a divine sculptor, exuding an air of severity.

Whoever had taken this photo had captured a rare moment—even in monochrome, the man’s eyes gleamed with life.

Meng Xuran frowned slightly, an indescribable unease prickling at her.

Bo Mingyan mistook her daze for shock. “Scared?”

“No.” Meng Xuran shook it off. “Is this section reserved for foreigners?”

“Just these two,” Bo Mingyan said. “The one next to Dad was a close friend of his, but he passed away not long after I was born. Dad used to bring me here to visit him too.”

Meng Xuran nodded, not pressing further.

As they descended the steps, she suddenly asked, “Are you ready to sue He Chencheng?”

Bo Mingyan hesitated, then said, “Yes. But his actions don’t meet the threshold for severe penalties. At most, he’ll get a few days in detention—just a minor lesson.”

Meng Xuran hummed in acknowledgment, her fingers toying with Bo Mingyan’s pinky, occasionally scratching her palm.

Bo Mingyan asked, “Why bring this up now?”

“There’s something I never told you,” Meng Xuran admitted after a pause. “I had Sun Haoqi trick him into confessing that he leaked your designs. I was furious, so I pulled some strings to blacklist him in the industry. He found out later, which is why he lashed out like this.”

Bo Mingyan had already learned this from Ava and Hu Jingjing, so she wasn’t surprised.

Meng Xuran continued, “I’ve been thinking these past few days—was this my fault, or his?”

Bo Mingyan asked, “Did you figure it out?”

“No.” Meng Xuran shook her head. “Part of me thinks he’s awful, but another part wonders if I hadn’t made him unemployable, he wouldn’t have been backed into a corner and attacked you.”

She bit her lip, fighting back tears.

“Can you just snap your fingers and make the entire industry reject someone?” Bo Mingyan asked.

“Of course not,” Meng Xuran said, blinking. “He’s decent-looking, and even if I’d warned people, most of us are competitors anyway. Why would they do me favors without weighing the pros and cons?”

“So they chose not to hire him after learning he’d leaked my designs because they saw him as a liability, right?”

“Right.”

“Then how is that your fault?” Bo Mingyan soothed. “You just gave them a heads-up. Their decision was based on their own judgment. Besides, he’s no stranger to spreading rumors. You didn’t do anything to him back then, did you? This situation isn’t happening because of anything you did. Some dogs will bite no matter what.”

Meng Xuran stared at the rain-darkened steps. “What if I don’t want to give him just a minor lesson? What if I want to give him multiple minor lessons?”

“Why ask for my opinion?” Bo Mingyan sensed Meng Xuran’s hesitation—she seemed to want to mention He Chencheng’s connection to her but didn’t want to acknowledge it. She interlaced their fingers. “I trust your principles. He means nothing to me, so don’t hold back on my account. But you mean everything to me, so don’t do anything that could put you at risk.”

Meng Xuran’s eyes shimmered. She tightened her grip on Bo Mingyan’s hand. The rain still fell, but her heart had cleared.

At the foot of the stairs, they burned stacks of joss paper in the designated area. Meng Xuran bought extra, saying they should burn some for Bo Mingyan’s father’s friend too. Since it was Qingming Festival, the cemetery had vendors selling paper offerings. Meng Xuran bought paper replicas of a smartphone and tablet, tossing them into the flames while murmuring, “Father-in-law, eat well, live well, enjoy yourself, and have a good reincarnation~ Don’t worry about Manman. Manman’s doing great because she found someone really great.”

Bo Mingyan listened, smiling, and chimed in, “Yes, she’s great, great, great.”

Their back-and-forth “great” stacking startled two young women approaching with their own joss paper, making them hesitate about switching to a different burner.

After a moment, the women stepped up beside Meng Xuran anyway. One of them kept sneaking glances, sucking in sharp breaths each time. Finally, she gasped, “Sister Mingyan! Little Director Meng!”

Bo Mingyan and Meng Xuran, having just finished their offerings, turned in unison to face Hu Jingjing and Lu Shan’s stunned expressions.

Meng Xuran eyed them. “You two here for a group grave visit?”

“Yep! Team effort~ Sister Ava and the others are coming later too. We were chatting in the group this morning and realized it’s kind of a coincidence—locals from Nanquan all have grandparents buried here at Longgu Mountain.” Hu Jingjing tilted her head. “Sister Mingyan, why didn’t you come with us? Did you not check the group chat this morning?”

Bo Mingyan deadpanned, “I left the group.”

Hu Jingjing gaped. “Wh-why?!”

Bo Mingyan didn’t answer.

Meng Xuran recalled how, two nights ago, Bo Mingyan had asked where the “I’m your goddess” meme had come from. Upon learning the truth—that she’d been sold out by the entire haute couture team—Bo Mingyan’s expression had gone blank for a solid minute.

Meng Xuran had burst out laughing. So she wasn’t the only one driven to the brink of madness.

And now, Bo Mingyan’s revenge on the others had only just begun.

Later, the grave-visiting group reconvened. Though the weather was dismal, the company was lively. Since they were already out, Meng Xuran suggested they make a day of it.

Bo Mingyan, stone-faced, was dragged along. When the others realized she’d left the group chat, they spent ages trying to coax her back, utterly baffled.

Finally, Meng Xuran took pity and gave them a hint with a smile: “Add me, and she’ll follow.”

The four assistants from the haute couture team exchanged panicked glances, then looked pleadingly at Bo Mingyan. Bo Mingyan silently turned her head away.

Silence meant consent.

“Ugh—bringing your whole family into the group chat, how shameless!” Gu Miao complained, then immediately contradicted herself. “Add me too! I want to be with my wife!”

“And me,” Lu Shan chimed in, raising her hand.

“Who’s your family?!” The assistants were on the verge of tears. How were they supposed to chat freely now?!

Lu Shan’s eyes darted to Hu Jingjing. “Hers! We just became sworn sisters today!”

And so, the “Eight Immortals” group gained three new members, ballooning to eleven. Ava felt the old name no longer fit but couldn’t think of a new one for eleven people.

Meng Xuran scanned the member list. “Huh, all girls?”

Bo Mingyan said, “Liu Yang’s a guy.”

That afternoon, Liu Yang—who’d been up all night gaming—groggily checked his phone to find a notification:

[You have been removed by Meng Xuran from the group “Perfect Ten”]

Liu Yang: …???

Author’s Note:

Liu Yang: After all we’ve been through, this is how you treat me!!!